The End: The Fire

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Summary: Willow's been captured and faces the end of her life.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: R
PAIRINGS: Spike/Angelus, Willow/Angelus
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
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Wrapping her arms around her body, unable to stop the fear- induced trembling, Willow huddled in a corner of the front seat of Angel's Mercedes as he drove with one hand on the wheel and one on her thigh, as if he was afraid she would bolt from the car at every stoplight.

Her mind churned with questions, with half-finished pleas, for ways to stop him from doing this, and finally she blurted out, "Why now?"

Angel glanced over at her and smiled in grim satisfaction at the sight of her small pale face. She was no longer crying, and was beginning to use her mind.

He wasn't all together sure that was a good thing.

"Why not? You're eighteen. Physically you're probably as mature as you're going to get, and your mind will continue to grow with every year."

"It won't be my mind."

"It won't be controlled by your soul but it will still be your mind, Willow. You will still be you, just...without a conscience."

"And with a murderous bloodlust," she muttered, staring blankly out the window.

"And demonic lusts, and a flare for evil. None of this will matter in a few hours. When you awaken, you won't care what you were or that you're different. You'll feel...better. You think that you're intelligent now, just wait."

A shudder of horror went through her, and his hand tightened on her thigh.

"What did you do to Spike?" she choked out finally, dreading the answer.

"He's chained in his room. Did you think I killed him, Willow? We don't know if the bond will carry over into your new life. I couldn't risk losing you." Angel's hand slipped up her body to finger one red curl that hung enticingly over her breast. As she pressed herself against the door, his fingers tightened on her hair until she yelped in pain.

Releasing her, he flipped on the turn signal and pulled into the long driveway.

In growing horror Willow stared up at the mansion as her stomach churned violently.

It finally hit her.

She was going to die tonight.

When the car stopped, Willow frantically shoved open the door and flung herself from the vehicle. Falling to her knees in the uncut, dry grass, her entire body heaving in protest, she vomited.

Thinking that she was trying to escape, Angel vaulted over the hood of the car, then came to a quick stop before he fell over her crouched form in the grass. After she wiped her mouth with a shaking hand, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her to her feet.

"How many more dramatics are we going to have?"

"As many as I can think of," she retorted, whimpering as his fingers tightened and he glared down at her.

"Will this rebellious streak remain when you're my childe?" he mused. "I'll enjoy beating it out of you."

"Sadist," Willow hissed, finally allowing anger to surpass the fear.

Angel grinned. "Hm, yes. And we all know that you're a masochist. You enjoy being beaten and hurt."

"By the man I love."

One of his hands slipped down the front of her dress and his fingers pinched closed around one of her nipples. It immediately hardened and Willow flushed in humiliation while Angel chuckled evilly.

"Does that mean you love me?" he quipped, before grabbing her arm and dragging her towards the house.

*****

Willow didn't fight him as he led her up the stairs to his suite, nor did she balk when he pushed her into the bathroom with the brusque command to rinse out her mouth and brush her teeth. Avoiding the mirror he'd installed for Buffy, Willow did as he asked, ridding herself of the sour taste of vomit. As she spit out the lasts of the minty toothpaste, she slowly looked up into the mirror.

The fear in her eyes was really tangible. It wasn't just an expression. Panic shown from the watery green depths like a beacon.

She was terrified.

And there was nothing she could do.

Slowly she sank down onto the closed toilet and buried her face in her hands, but she didn't cry. Her tears were gone for the moment.

She just felt so tired.

And so very lost.

As Willow slowly gathered the strength to face the end of her life, the half-closed door was pushed open and Angel entered the bathroom.

Willow's eyes widened at the sight of a sharp knife in his hand.

*****

Confidence filling him, Angel left Willow in the bathroom and strode across the hall. Flinging open the door he noted in satisfaction that Spike was still chained, though he struggled against the bonds.

Spike felt his sire behind him, but he concentrated only on the manacles, desperately trying to pull them free from the posts, or even cut his hands off on the dull iron. The moment Willow had walked into the mansion he'd felt her.

She was so scared.

Her scent was confusing, a muddle of terror and sickness, and the horrifying beginnings of acceptance.

But, she was still human. He held onto that fact and pulled harder on the chains, sending thick rivers of blood down his arms from his abraded wrists.

"You're just making me hungry, boy."

"Fuck you," Spike yelled, still not looking at his sire.

"Where's the key, Will?"

"...What?" He actually stopped struggling for a moment at his sire's odd question, then his eyes widened. "NO!"

Angel sighed heavily and rolled his eyes before walking over to the dresser to paw through the drawers and Drusilla's jewelry box. "Just tell me where it is. All this delay is doing is allowing her terror to amplify."

Tears filled Spike's eyes and he wrenched his shoulder as he turned his furious glare on Angel. "You'll never find it. Only I can remove it."

Angel snorted and slammed the last drawer shut before heading for the night stand to go through the contents scattered on the shelves. After about ten futile minutes of searching the room, he gave up and glared at his childe. "You know, I just wanted to make it easier on her, give her something to remember you by."

Leaning down, Angel pulled a wicked looking knife from his boot, then cracked the flat of the blade across Spike's face, leaving a thin bleeding line from the outer corner of his eye to his chin. Spike hissed at the sudden pain and jerked his head back to snarl at the older male.

The burst of anger Angel had felt at being unable to find the key dispersed into amusement and desire, and he grabbed Spike's clenched jaw and ran his tongue up the wound, then kissed him with hungry passion.

As he pulled back, Spike spat angrily, twisting in the chains and making them rattle loudly.

Angel sighed again. "You're going to be a distraction, aren't you." Before Spike could reply, the dark vampire caught him in a headlock and slowly strangled him.

Although a vampire didn't need to breathe, some air flow was necessary to allow blood to pump to the brain to keep it functioning. Without either, a vampire wouldn't die, but would fall unconscious, usually for several hours.

Angel was counting on that time free of concern for his favorite childe in order to make his newest one.

Spike struggled wildly, gasping loudly, but it was no use. As darkness shrouded his vision, his last thought was a two word prayer for Willow.

Please God...

*****

"Wh..what's the knife for?" Willow stammered, pressing herself back against the sink.

Angel held it up to the light, twirling the blade in his hand, then smirked at her. "That bit of leather offends me and since it's locked in place and no one will give me a key..." He let the sentence dangle menacingly.

Automatically, Willow's hand went to the embroidered collar around her neck. It hadn't been off her in nearly a month, and that night she'd only lasted two hours before she'd wanted it returned to its rightful place. "Please...don't take it away from me."

"You won't need it anymore. You'll be Spike's equal, not his slave."

"It doesn't symbolize that," she protested, her fingers wrapping tightly around the supple leather.

"If you say so," he patronized her, a smirk crossing his face. In a blink of an eye he slit the leather and the collar fell into Willow's hand. Pulling it from her neck, she blinked back useless tears and fingered one of the embroidered roses.

Angel pointed the knife to her hand. "The ring, too."

Dully she removed the engagement ring and carefully set it on the vanity, laying the ruined collar next to it. For a moment her fingers lingered on the physical symbols of Spike's love for her and hers for him, then she straightened her spine and turned back to Angel.

He gestured again with the knife, this time to the door. "Out."

Slowly Willow shuffled out of the bathroom and into the dark bedroom. Her heart raced for a minute as he passed her, then she forced herself to relax.

There was nothing more she could say or do...

End Chapter 3